Draco's Blue Hair
by amaltia
Summary: This is a tragic tale of nefarious hairdressers and money-grubbing fathers, and, of course, a young, omniscient witch who will do anything to get her way. Hermione/Draco, OOC


**Disclaimer: ** Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling and other associated characters. I do not claim to own any of these characters, though the views expressed within my story are my own.

** Warning: ** This story is intentionally silly, often ridiculous, and written on the premise that all characters have the right to be OOC in the bubble of my own head. Read at your own risk. Do not bug the author, for I have warned you!

** A/N: ** Dedicated to prowling-wolf, and our endless msn conversation.

**Draco's Blue Hair**

The unfortunate events related in this tale occurred late one sunny afternoon, on a day that seemed like all others. Lunch had finished only a short while ago, and Hermione was walking to History of Magic with Harry and Ron, the latter of which was still wiping crumbs off of his face.

They navigated the moving staircases with years of experience, quickly reaching the hallway. It was then that the threesome came across a huge crowd of students, milling about excitedly, blocking the corridor. Their attention seemed focused on one door: a door with a large Out of Order sign upon it, and the door to a girls bathroom.

"What's happening?" Harry asked no one in particular, as they paused at the outskirts of the crowd. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to look nonchalantly at a group of girls.

Hermione grinned, the look of vindictive amusement almost savage on her sweet face. "Malfoy's locked himself in Moaning Myrtles bathroom, and says hes not coming out."

"What's wrong with the bloody ferret now?" Ron groused, obviously annoyed that he was not the center of attention.

Hermione struggled to keep the smile on her face from growing any larger. "Malfoy went to Snappy Snips yesterday, during the Hogsmede visit, and the hairdresser dyed his hair--"

"--blue." Ginny finished for her. "How did you know, Hermione? I thought I was the only one who saw him when he got back!"

She shrugged. "Oh, its in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Ron shook his head in admiration. "That book has everything. I should read it some day."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, her bookworm persona turned on full blast. "Its only 1,568 pages, after all. The chapter on the selection of floor-tiling is fascinating! Not to mention the intricate details of the flora and fauna in the surrounding area."

"Well, yeah. Some day," Ron repeated, suddenly looking a little green at the thought of such tediousness.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, suspicious. She leaned forward to whisper into Hermiones ear. "Does it really have a section on Malfoys hair dyeing disaster?"

Hermione shook her head and whispered back, "Nope, but its how I keep the boys from figuring out that Im omniscient. It works, too!"

They both grinned at each other and muttered, "Boys."

Said boys were obviously oblivious to the machinations of the female mind, and as such had already lost interest in the conversation, losing the opportunity to truly discover why Hermione knew everything. Instead, they were eavesdropping on the outer circles of the crowd, listening to the juicy tales of gossip. The rumors of what had happened to Draco went from the ridiculous to the absurd. One particularly vociferous girl was claiming that Draco was actually part of an underground, leather-wearing, chain-wielding rock band. Hermione took a moment to picture the situation in her head. It had its merits, she decided.

"Let's get closer," Harry suggested, curious to hear more.

Ron and Harry tried unsuccessfully to elbow their way through the crowd, only to end up on the floor, having progressed no further into the crowd. A pack of gossipers was a fearsome obstacle that neither boy knew how to overcome.

After a few seconds of stroking her chin thoughtfully to heighten the suspense, Ginny turned to Hermione and exclaimed: "I've got an idea!" Ginny then leant towards her and whispered into her ear once more. The smile on Hermiones face grew to match that of a Cheshire cat.

"_Sonorus_," Hermione muttered, pointing at her throat. Then she said, "SNAPE AND MCGONAGALL ARE MAKING OUT IN THE DUNGEONS!"

The people in the crowd began to mutter excitedly, debating whether they should wait for Draco's inevitable appearance, or go down into the dungeons to catch the two teachers red-handed. The solid pack of gossipers began to loosen slightly, wavering, but it was not enough.

"It's not working," Ginny muttered urgently.

Hermiones grin widened, and she added, "AND SNAPE'S GOT A WHIP!"

That decided it. The crowd stampeded down to the dungeons, leaving an almost shocking silence in their wake.

"Let's go," Ron said, tugging Harrys sleeve. "It'll be a moment to add to my favorite memories, right next to the bouncing ferret. Imagine the headlines: Snapes got McGonagall whipped!"

Harry frowned, trying to resist Rons increasingly insistent tugs. "I was so sure McGonagall was going out with Dumbledore!"

"What, with that long beard?" Ron laughed. Harry kept frowning, but allowed Ron to begin to pull him down the hallway.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, exchanging exasperated looks with Ginny. She turned to the boys and put on her best lecture tone of voice. "Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall are _not_ making out in the dungeons. I invented that rumor to get rid of the crowd, since your supposedly manly attempts at shoving through were not working. Harry is right for once; Professor McGonagall has feelings for the Headmaster, although thankfully nothing will happen due to the Headmaster's fairly blatant preferences."

"Of course, Hermione," Ron said scathingly over his shoulder, dragging Harry away. "You're just saying that because you're jealous you didn't get to Snape first."

Harry nodded, suddenly convinced, and called back: "And how would you know they're not making out? The dungeons are miles from here!"

Then both boys disappeared around the corner. Hermione frowned, trying to get the image of her and Professor Snape out of her head. She wasn't that desperate to get an Outstanding in Potions, at least not yet. But she did wonder how Professor Snape would react if he knew she was omniscient. She filed the thought on her things-to-know list and pushed the matter aside.

Shaking her head in disbelief at Ron and Harry's behavior, she turned to face Ginny. "Sometimes," she said to the girl, "I wonder why I hang around such idiots."

Ginny smirked. "Sometimes I wonder why I had a crush on one of those idiots."

They smiled at each other for a few moments until Ginny suddenly frowned. "You do know I meant Harry, right? Not my brother."

Stifling a laugh, Hermione ignored her comment and walked over to the bathroom door. She knocked twice, two sharp raps on the wooden door. "Malfoy, you can open the door now. Everyone has left."

"I'm not coming out!" Draco yelled defiantly from behind the door.

"I didn't know you needed to," Hermione replied, unable to resist. There was some indignant spluttering from behind the door, then silence. "In any case, the crowd is gone. There's no one here," she continued patiently.

"Then who am I talking to?" Draco replied, his voice slightly fearful.

"The ghost of Christmas past!" Ginny boomed, cutting off what Hermione had been about to say.

Draco's reply was nearly frantic. "What? Really?"

Hermione stomped her foot impatiently. "Of course not, you bloody polecat!"

"It's ferret," Ginny whispered loudly, to the point that she might as well have not been whispering. Draco made an incoherent sound of rage from behind the door.

Hermione turned to Ginny, venting her frustrations of the general ineptness and inanity in the school on the girl. "You totally missed the point. I'm trying to be creative here."

Ginny held up her hands in apology, and Hermione relented. The girl was not to be blamed for her lack of creativity; it ran, after all, in the family. From Ron's unimaginative insults, to Ginny's tediously repetitive use of the Bat Bogey hex, to Percy's anal retentiveness, to Charlie's overused chat-up lines. The twins, of course, were an anomaly, to be dealt with separately. Bill she did not yet know well enough to categorize, but that was already on her list of things-to-know.

Moaning Myrtle stuck her head through the door and scowled angrily at them. "You two should have better things to do than pick on people."

"Oh, look," Ginny said with an evil smile. "Malfoy needs a _girl_ to protect him. And a dead girl at that! What are you going to do, walk through us?"

"Well... well..." Myrtle paused, her large eyes blinking furiously behind her oversized spectacles as she thought of a suitable revenge. "I'll flood every bathroom you try to use!"

Ginny looked scandalized. "But what about when I need to brush my teeth?"

"I'll flood it all!" Myrtle crowed, relishing her newfound power.

"But... bathrooms... mirrors... makeup!" Ginny put her hands over her face and sat down, gibbering to herself frantically.

It was just as well Hermione did not have similar weaknesses. She did, however, mentally note down what buttons she would need to push if Ginny were ever to get out of hand. Then she focused on her current problem. "Myrtle," Hermione said soothingly, "We're not here to laugh at Malfoy. All we want to do is help him. We even made the crowd go away so that he could have some privacy."

"Oh," Myrtle responded sadly. "Are you sure? It would be fun to flood so many toilets."

"We're sure," Hermione said firmly. "But I'll let you know if I ever need you to do that for me."

"Okay!" Myrtle replied cheerfully, appeased. "She disappeared back through the door, and seconds later a loud splash was heard."

The door to the bathroom slowly creaked open, and Draco peered out at them hesitantly. Hermione glanced at Ginny, who was still incoherent on the floor, and stepped through the doorway, closing the door firmly behind her. Then she leaned back against the doorway to fully savor the sight.

Draco's hair was blue. Not just any blue, but shocking electric blue that screamed of midnight raves and pounding music. His face looked even paler than usual; the contrast between his hair and his skin unflattering. Soon, she would know everything there was to know of this sordid little tale. Hermione liked to know everything, to the extent that it had become a need.

"Hello, Draco," she said, relishing his slight flinch at the use of his name.

Draco wilted under her gaze, drawing back into himself. He looked miserable, more of a beaten puppy than vicious ferret. Hermione lifted up her hand and beckoned him closer. Slowly, hopefully, he shuffled towards her. He stopped only a foot away, his mournful eyes lifting to meet hers. Hermione decided to grace him with a generous smile, loving the opportunity to showcase her straight, pearly-white teeth. Draco beamed back at her as much as he could, which was only the Malfoy equivalent of a beam--more of a smirk, really.

Then, he spoke: "You know how to change it back, Granger?"

"Yes," she said, allowing him to feel the sudden rush of euphoria before stating her conditions. "But first, you need to tell me _everything_ that happened."

Draco's full-blown smirk was immediately wiped off his face, and in its place came a sullen look more suited to a five-year-old. "Everything?" he said, "I thought you already knew everything."

It was her turn to pout now. "Only things that happen within the walls of Hogwarts," she admitted.

A sly look crept onto Draco's face, but it disappeared even faster than the smirk when he saw Hermiones raised eyebrow. She had made sure to teach him she was not just any young witch; she was _dangerous_. And she knew things. The combination was deadly, and something everything Slytherin aspired to have.

"Where should I start?" he asked, his voice flat and emotionless. His eyes, however, could not hide his simmering anger. Without the blue hair, Hermione was surprised to realize, Draco would look rather attractive. She filed the thought away for later perusal.

"At the beginning, of course," she said, allowing a hint of impatience into her voice. "Where else?"

"I've gotten my hair cut at Snappy Snips every since I began Hogwarts," Draco began, his voice strengthening with every word. That boy really did love the sound of his own voice. "Hence going to the hairdressers yesterday was, for me, simply another visit amongst many. Not that I'll ever go again!" Draco scowled, lost in thought, and then forced himself to continue. "I did find it strange, however, that my father was the one to make the appointment. He sent me a letter Saturday afternoon, informing me of his actions and warning me of the consequences had I avoided the appointment."

"Yes, I know about the letter," Hermione said, trying to hurry Draco along into the part of the story she was really interested in.

Draco ignored her, pausing and staring off into space as he were contemplating how best to continue the story. He probably didn't realize that he actually looked like he was staring at a rather sodden piece of toilet paper stuck on the wall. Hermione was amused enough by the image to resist the temptation to prompt Draco.

"My father did not tell me of the real reason behind the appointment," Draco finally continued, looking around him as he spoke, as if he were in front of a great audience. "The hairdresser didn't tell me, either. He just dyed my hair blue."

Finished with his tale, Draco looked back at Hermione, a pleased expression on his face. She was not fooled, and simply stared back at him. She crossed her arms, and finally said, "Do you or do you not want your hair back to normal?"

Draco sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Fine! You want to know what happened, Granger? I'll tell you! My father's crazy, thats what's happened!" Draco began to pace furiously in the small bathroom, his anger bubbling to the surface. "My father had a dream a few weeks ago that he would be poor in the future, and ever since then he's been hoarding all the galleons he can get his hands on."

"Ah yes, greed," Hermione mused aloud, a hidden smirk on her face, "a rather unusual trait in the rich."

Draco whirled around and walked right up to her, jabbing his finger into her chest with every word he spoke. "He sold me! To the hairdresser! Who I've come to realize is an utter pervert!" Draco paused in his tirade, shuddering in remembrance. Hermione took the opportunity to wrap her hand around his index finger, protecting herself from further jabbings.

Draco looked down at her hand, then at her. He shrugged, and continued, "Thankfully, my father was too crazy and the hairdresser too stupid to realize that a House Elf contract isn't applicable to me."

Hermione chewed her lip, picturing the situation in her head. It was almost perfect in its absurdity. There was only one piece of the puzzle missing.

"None of that explains why your hair is blue."

Draco scowled and tried unsuccessfully to tug his finger out of Hermione's grip. "The hairdresser intentionally used an experimental dye on my hair, one he knew would not come off with simple spells. He was trying to trick me into going back to his house, where he probably would've locked me up in a cage and throw away the key!"

"I think he would've done more than that," Hermione remarked casually, lost in thought. Then, she added, "I wonder if the cage was ferret-sized." This time, she released Draco's finger when he pulled, making him stumble back half a step in surprise.

"What about your end of the deal?" Draco asked sourly.

"Oh yes," Hermione replied, all business. "You need to kiss me for that."

"What?!" Draco looked torn between a mixture of shock, disbelief, and horror. His eyes flicked between her eyes and her lips several times, occasionally wavering slightly lower.

"I assume," Hermione said in her lecture voice, "that the hairdresser meant to seduce you with such a tactic. Forcing you to kiss him for the sake of your hair; rather ingenious, really." Then she stared at Draco, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

Draco stood still for a moment, looking down at the ground between them. He took several deep breaths, and when he looked up, his eyes had a faint predatory gleam to them. Hermione suppressed a shiver. The rock band Draco image had more merit than she had realized.

Suddenly, Dracos lips were upon hers. She had expected them to be soft lips, the lips of a rich, spoilt boy who knew nothing of life's hardships. Instead, they were rough and chapped and exciting. He edged closer and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling her firmly against him. She parted her lips under his insistent mouth, her hands instinctively coming up to grasp his biceps. They were not what she expected, either. His arms were lean, but not skinny. She could feel the muscle tensing beneath her fingers.

Draco slowly pulled away, and he stood still for a moment, his forehead resting on Hermione's. They were both breathing heavily. Then, with almost child-like glee, Draco raced over to the bathroom mirror to examine his hair. Hermione looked at his reflection with anticipation, watching as the triumphant smile froze on his face.

"Blue," he said softly, in shock. "It's still blue." He turned around to face Hermione, his mouth morphing into a snarl.

"About that," Hermione said loudly before Draco could attack her. "Here." She reached into her robes and pulled out the cardboard box, tossing it at Draco. He caught it reflexively and stared at it, perplexed. "Bleach blond Muggle hair dye," she clarified. "Works like a charm."

"Really?" Draco said, looking at the picture on the box.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Well, no, actually. Its more like Potions. The instructions are clear enough." Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned around and opened the door.

"Hermione! Wait!" Draco said urgently.

She paused halfway through the door and looked back over her shoulder. He was standing in the bathroom, holding the box with both of his hands. He looked at her with an adorably confused look on his face. "Well?" she prompted.

"The kiss. Did you need to do that to make this Muggle stuff work?"

"Oh no," she replied, suppressing her amusement at the dumbfounded look on his face. "I just wanted to know what that would feel like. Consider the hair dye a one-for-two exchange." She paused, smirking. "And don't worry, I won't tell anyone what happened. Not about the blue hair, or the kiss, or the lollipop from last month, remember? They're all safe with me, unless you force me to change my mind." Then she stepped through the doorway and closed it behind her. The faint sound of swearing from the other side of the door brought a smile to her lips.

Hermione stood in the corridor for a few moments, considering her options. History of Magic was already half-over, and in any case Binns would probably not have noticed her absence, or anyone else's. Ron and Harry had retreated to Gryffindor Tower, tired of following the gossip pack around. There were still a few hours before dinner, though, and Hermione was not one to waste free time.

With a long-suffering sigh, Hermione hauled Ginny up from the floor. The girl had calmed somewhat, although she occasionally muttered to herself about mirrors and toilets. Hopefully the shock would fully wear off with time.

In the meanwhile, Hermione had some investigating to do, namely what exactly Snape was planning to do with the strawberries he was begging off of the House Elves.

A slow smirk crept onto Hermiones face as she marched down the hallway, Ginny in tow. Perhaps this little tidbit of knowledge was her ticket to an Outstanding in Potions. She would have to find a way to weasel the information out of Snape, and that could be an amusing task in itself. After all, she didn't just like knowing things; she _needed_ to know.


End file.
